100 Ways To Annoy, Harass, Confuse or Generally Scare Lord Voldemort

AN: Written for the challenge given by SkiaShadows at Harry Potter Challenges! Just so you know, this is most certainly not a romance of any kind! It's just for fun and a few laughs!

Chapter 1 - May to June

"No, it can't be. I refuse to believe it." Voldemort turned and stared out the window, picking at his cuticles with his over-grown nails.

"I'm sorry, My Lord. But it is true. It was one of the last things Dumbledore told me before he died." Snape answered, he bowed his head. A normal onlooker would think this to be a little odd considering Voldemort's back was turned to him and he couldn't even see, but Snape knew that his Lord could sense this gesture of...respect or whatever.

"It is not possible."

"Think about it My Lord, it makes perfect sense. It explains everything, the connection between you and the boy, the fact that you can read each other's minds, the shared power, the scar!"


Snape flinched, Voldemort never raised his voice. Never. Unless he was supremely annoyed, angry or just plain irritated with life.

"I'm sorry, My Lord." Then he fell silent, leaving Voldemort to his thoughts.

The Shrieking Shack was quiet for a few moments, they were supposed to be outside, in the Battle of Hogwarts, fighting for their lives, but they weren't. Obviously.

"Well you know what this means, don't you, Severus?"

"No, My Lord."

"I can't let the boy die. Since...since," Voldemort's voice choked. "Since Nagini...died, I've been wondering what's kept me alive. I owe Potter my life, I can't kill him. No one can kill him. And the only way I can ensure that is if I..."

"Yes?" Snape asked warily, it would be an understatement if he said he was scared at this point.

"I'll have to keep him."

"Keep him, sir?"

"Yes. Protect him. Shelter him. Make sure no harm comes to the boy. Harry Potter must not die."

"Sorry, sir, but just so we're clear; we are still talking about the boy you've spent the last 17 years trying to kill?"

"Yes, Severus."


"HEY! What're you doing?! Get your filthy meat-hooks off me!" Harry yelled, squirming to get out of Snape's deathly grip.

They were outside the Riddle Manor and Snape was currently attempting to get Harry into the house, which was proving to be rather difficult.

"Listen here, Potter," Snape brought Harry's face close to his own. "The Dark Lord isn't too pleased about this either, so just go along with it, will you? It'll make this all a lot easier, trust me."

"Trust you? You're a back-stabbing, betraying, slimy little git! What idiot in their right mind would trust you?"

"The Dark Lord."

"Oh, well then." Harry rolled his eyes. "Let's get this over with then. What does he want with me? Voldemort had the perfect opportunity to kill me a few hours ago, why didn't he? Was I too powerful for him again?"

A cold voice emanated from the doorway of the Riddle Manor.

"You wish, Potter." Voldemort emerged from the shadows, typical, Harry thought to himself. "I merely have to desire to kill you anymore."

"You...you what? You have no desire to kill me anymore?"

"Yes, you heard right, well done, Potter."

"How do I know this isn't some kind of trap?"

"Traps usually entail me intending to hurt you, I have no such wish, Harry."

"So you had Snape drag me all the way over here just to tell me that you don't want to kill me anymore? Well, that's wonderful, thanks for that. Can I go now?"


"No? Why not?"

"I can't let you die, Harry. And if I let you go, you'd be at too much of a risk. I can not risk your life."

"With you not wanting me dead, Voldemort, I'm practically a free man. Who else would want to kill me?"

Voldemort simply raised his eyebrow. Well, he would've...if he had any eyebrows. He did attempt the gesture, though. But it was enough for Harry to get the message.

"Fine, I still have a lot of enemies. So what do you plan on doing about that?"

Voldemort gestured a hand towards the inside of the Riddle Manor. Snape grabbed Harry's collar once more and pulled him alongside him.

"What? What?! Hey, no! Stop it! Get off me! NO! STOP!" Harry kicked and scratched, but Snape carried him along nevertheless, ignoring every bite and tug from the boy.

"Welcome, Mister Potter, to the first day of the rest of your life." Voldemort smiled an evil, maniacal smile, one that sent shivers up Harry's spine. But who knew that soon Voldemort would be cringing at the mere sight of The-Boy-Who-Lived?

They were in the usual room, in the usual study, in the usual house; The Riddle Manor. It had been weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts, it had been weeks since the Wizarding World had retired into the assumption that Harry Potter had indeed finally died since he couldn't be found anywhere, and it had been weeks since Harry decided to give up on begging Voldemort to let him out and settled on bugging the hell out of him.

Harry was currently lounging across the sofa, facing the magic television which literally had one channel, while Lord Voldemort sat at the rusty old dining table, several pieces of parchment were strewn all over it. He was scribbling rapidly on them, his eyes wide as if he was just about to discover the cure for cancer.

This was what Harry would refer to a 'plotting session', Voldemort had a countless number of them every week, and almost all of them ended with him slumped in his chair, exhausted, and no closer to World Domination than he was a month ago.

"Tom?" Harry suddenly perked up.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Can I stop you?"

Harry ignored him and continued. "I remember reading once that you were the one who created the Dark Mark."

"Well, it's nice to know that literature hasn't completely screwed things up. What that your question?"

"No. I was just wondering..."


"Couldn't you have made it look like something more socially acceptable?"


"You heard me, socially acceptable. I mean honestly, a snake coming out of a skull? Who wants to look at something like that? Never mind having it engraved into your arm."

"It just so happens, Potter, that it symbolises everything we stand for."

"Dead men who puke out snakes?"

"No. Power, fear, invincibility and immortality."

Harry nodded slowly. "I see how that works, you lack power, you fear everything, you crave invincibility and your life's goal is to be immortal. Nice job on squeezing all that into one little picture." He looked up from the screen and smirked at the snake-like creature sitting at the table.

Voldemort glared at him for a few seconds and then turned to repeatedly slam his head down onto the desk.

"Oh, sorry, Voldemort. Am I annoying you by any chance?"

Tom Marvolo Riddle took a deep breath and slowly glanced back at Harry, a grimace-like smile plastered on his face. It did make him look rather ugly.

"Not at all, Harry."

His eyes shot open to a loud noise. Knocking. On his door. It was persistent, fast, irritating, annoying...it must be Harry. He rolled his eyes, maybe it would've been easier just to lock him up in an asylum or something.

"What do you want, you little rodent?" He called out.

The door flung open and, surprise surprise, Harry Potter came striding in, a huge grin on his face, carrying...a pack of cards.

Oh no.

"Listen here, Voldemort. I've just had an AMAZING idea!"

"Does it involve a game of cards?" He asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up in his bed. Harry plopped down on the other side, nonchalantly 'plopping' down on Voldemort's feet.

"Oh my Merlin, Voldie-poo. How on Earth did you guess?" His eyes widened, actually waiting for his answer.

"Well, naturally it has nothing to do with the deck of cards in your hand, it's just merely the fact that we share a mind connection and can read each other's thoughts."

"Fascinating. Anyway, you're right. I know how you're going to take over the world!"

"Really?" He was truly intrigued now, even though he knew that Harry was just messing with him, he was mildly interested to learn what his new scheme was.

"All great leaders had amazing poker faces. That's what we're going to work on now." He held up the cards. "We're playing Texas Hold'em Poker." There was a wild, mad gleam in his eyes.

Voldemort sighed and pushed the blankets off him, knowing that if he refused, Harry would start up a huge ruckus about it.

"Very well, deal."

Harry smiled knowingly and dealt out the cards. As soon as Voldemort held up his cards, he knew he was doomed.

"Are these cards bewitched or something?" The disappointment was evident in the Dark Lord's eyes, and Harry instantly knew he had won, and the cards really weren't even bewitched.

"No, Tom, they aren't. Honestly, you have absolutely no poker-face, how do you expect to be a supreme ruler without one?"

He closed his eyes and with his free hand, massaged his temples. "Honestly? With you here bringing me closer to death than I've ever been before every single day, I don't think the world will ever fall at my feet."

Harry shrugged. "Well that makes sense." He dropped his cards on the bed. Two aces. He stood up and headed for the door.

"Wait, aren't you going to take these with you?" Voldemort gestured towards the cards when Harry turned.

"Um...I don't think so." He turned, opened the door and slammed it behind him.

"I hate that boy." Voldemort muttered.

"I say, Tom, how come you don't have such a cool scar?" Harry asked out of the blue.

"Excuse me?"

The two enemies were on their way to the Malfoy Mansion for the customary fortnightly Death Eater meeting.

"No, really. The night you attempted to kill me, you know, when I was a small, innocent, cute little baby, and you know, you couldn't, I got this lighting bolt shaped scar, right?" Harry lifted up a tuft of his hair from his forehead to secure his point.

Voldemort gritted his teeth, he hated it whenever Harry pointed out that he couldn't kill him as a baby. "Yes, your point?"

"Well, how come you didn't get one? A scar I mean. They're wicked awesome. They get me recognised everywhere. If you had one, one shaped at least as awesomely - mind you - maybe people would like you more. You could possibly be a step closer to world domination or whatever your life's mission is."

"I couldn't care less what people think of me, Harry, and I certainly couldn't care less whether they like me or not. All that matters in the end is that they obey and follow me. And that they stay true and loyal to 'the cause'."

Harry burst out laughing.

"What?" Voldemort asked him, clearly puzzled and mildly offended.

"I'm sorry, well, no, I'm not. But still. That's just...that's - that's hilarious."

"Well, what's so hilarious about it?"

"'The cause'? Seriously? 'The cause' as in to destroy and destruct everything you can?"

"No, the cause as in to start a new Age. An Age created by me and my followers, only those loyal to me, those who I can trust."

Harry burst out laughing again.

"What's so funny this time?"

"Just the thought of you trusting anyone. I mean, you."

Voldemort looked up to the heavens, praying to Merlin that time would speed up and they would just bloody arrive at the Malfoy Mansion.

Well, I got my wish. We did eventually reach the Malfoy Mansion, but things just got worse from then on.

First off, every time I tried to enter a room, he would insist on entering first and 'announcing my grand entry'. So there I was, standing outside the door, in all my evil and dark glory, waiting for Harry Potter's 'okay'.

Finally, I heard the words: "And here he is, my fellow Evil Ones, Lord Voldemort!" And then the doors swung open.

I regained my posture and strode through them, throwing a distasteful look at Potter who was faking a trumpet noise and giving me an equally fake drum roll. He winked at me ironically and I instantly felt the urge to kill something. Maybe him...

And then I remembered why I couldn't. I remembered the reason why I was stuck in this godforsaken position to begin with. Harry was the only thing keeping me alive, without him, I'd be as dead as he would be should I eventually give in to my urges.

I resisted facepalming myself and settled down into the Head Chair, Harry sat next to me, much to the distaste of Lucius Malfoy who had the unfortunate task of being seated next to him. For the first time since I met the poor bastard, I actually felt sorry for him.

I cleared my throat and all those ungrateful little Death Eaters immediately stopped chuckling and sniggering.

"Now, comrades, we have business to discuss. I hear our hold on the Ministry is loosening?" I looked pointedly at Greyback and Bellatrix, who I knew were responsible for Ministry matters. Well, them among others, it was just fun picking on them.

"My Lord, Dawlish is the problem. It seems he's found a way to counteract the Imperius Curse." Bellatrix spoke up.

"What? That's impossible."

"Which is exactly what we thought, sir. We did everything we could, but somehow he's able to resist."

"Well, that's just not acceptable! When did this start happening?"

"A month ago, My Lord." Greyback answered.

Bellatrix whacked his arm, his yelped and looked at her first questioningly, then with murder written in his eyes.

"What?! A month ago?! Why was I not informed of this sooner?!" My eyes blazed, fire burning in them.

I heard a mocking snigger to my right. Everyone at the table turned to the source of the incriminating sound.

"What is it now, Potter?" My voice was tight and controlled.

He just looked at my followers and smiled.

"I taught him everything he knows. Excuse him if he gets a tad bit temperamental at times, influence, you know, what're you gonna do about it?" He shrugged and smiled sweetly at me.

"Stop it, Potter. I'm getting irritated. Can you just let me address the issue at hand?"

"What issue?"

"The Ministry issue!"

"Oh, you mean how none of them told you what's really been going on? Still trust them, do you, Tom?"

"Oh, Potter, will you just shut up? Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?"

"Yes, that's why it's so fun interrupting you."

Some of the bolder, or should I say stupider, of my followers started chuckling at his comment. I glared at them, swearing to make the next few weeks of their life hell.

"Now, moving on. You," I pointed to those who I called the 'Ministry Eaters', though I'd never tell anyone about my nickname for them. "You four better get this sorted, I don't like the idea of us losing our grip on the Ministry. They are our strongest source of power and influence."

And for about the fourth time in that hour, Harry started laughing...again.

"WHAT IS SO BLOODY FUNNY?!" I stood up, pushing the chair I was sitting on just a second ago onto the floor, it fell with a loud bang, and I slammed my hands down onto the table, moving it just a slight.

Harry glanced up at me, every Death Eater in the room looked back and forth between the two of us. There was plain amusement in Harry's eyes, he was bursting to say some witty remark, I just knew it. But instead, he looked down in an attempt to hide his smirk.

"Nothing, it's a...private joke."

"Private joke? With who? Who here, who's left on this planet who you could possibly have the pleasures of sharing a 'private joke' with?"

That struck a nerve. I knew that that was Harry's one weak point, every time I mentioned his lack of friends, his lack of a social life because of me holding him captive, he immediately got incredibly and almost unbelievably pissed off and angry. He glared at me.

"You're a right evil, filthy bastard, you know that?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry scraped his chair back and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Peace and quiet settled over the room. I collected my robes from around me and used my wand to flick my chair back in place so I could sit back down on it.

"Well, that's better." I was referring to the unusual silence in the room.

There were nods and murmured agreements around the table, and I smirked a small, dark, cunning smirk. But somewhere inside me, I felt an unpleasant tug, it came from a place where I assumed my heart would be, had I had one, of course.

"That was really mean of you, you know?"

Voldemort sighed. "Harry, I am the most powerful dark wizard of all time, everything I do is, as an understatement, 'mean'. But, just out of morbid curiosity, what is it this time that you find particularly mean?"

"The thing at the meeting."

"Specific. Succinct. That's what I like about you, Harry."

I pinched him. He jumped in surprise, he gave me a look of unfathomable annoyance.

"Picking on me like that."

"Picking on you? Me? Picking on you?" He looked at me incredulously

"No matter how many times you say it, Tom, the meaning is going to stay the same."

"How, in Merlin's name, was I picking on you?"

"That thing with the private joke. How I had no one I could share a private joke with. You have no right to say things like that. You're the one who took everyone away from me. You're the reason I'm stuck in this suckish hell of a life. You're the reason -" He cut me off.

"Harry, I've spent years running around killing people, slaughtering them, slicing up my soul into tiny little pieces, and separating families. Why on earth should this suddenly make my conscious re-appear?"

"Have you ever even had one?"


"Well, that's hard to believe."

Voldemort reached over in an attempt to pinch me. I swatted his hand away. Then I pinched him. Hard.

He squealed. Lord Voldemort, 'the most powerful dark wizard of all time', squealed. Like a little girl. Like a little girl he's probably killed at some point in his life.

He was smiling. A lot.

Literally, he was walking around as if he'd just won that Muggle thing, what was it called? A pottery? No. There was an L in there somewhere...poltery? Potterly? Lotterly? Anyway, that thing. Apparently you win loads of money, and it looked as if Potter was on Cloud Nine.

He was practically bouncing around the house. It was incredibly and annoyingly unnerving.

He jogged up to me in my study, beaming from ear to ear. "Hey, Voldie?"

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

"How long will it take for you to realise that the more you hate it, the more I say it?"

"Is there a reason that you came up to me, or do you just like antagonising me?" Stupid question. Of course he liked antagonising me, it's all he's been doing for the past month.

"Actually, I was wondering something."

"And that is?"

"Have you ever even had a girlfriend? Like ever?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I was just wondering. Maybe if you still remembered the poor soul's name, I could tell St. Mungo's to track down a new patient for their Mental Clinic." He looked off into the distance. "Then again, maybe the brain damage caused to her head will be too severe for them to cure..." He trailed off.

Harry looked back at me and that infuriating grin re-appeared on his face when he caught my expression of poor loathing and irritation.

"Very funny, Potter."

"Oh, I certainly thought so."

"As it just so happens, no, I haven't. I've never had the time."

"Or the heart capacity?"

I was about to object when I realised what that would mean. He was right, I don't have it in me to commit to one person like that.

"Fine, or the heart capacity. It's just...too much of a hassle."

"A hassle? You mean having to deal with being rejected numerous times?" Harry had a knowing glint in his eye.

He knew. He knew about Lucinda, he knew about Cassandra, he knew about Kylie and I'll bet he knew about Tonya too. And those others whose names I've forgotten.

"How?" He knew I was referring to his uncanny extensive knowledge about my past love-life.

He simply shrugged. "I have my ways, I have my sources, I have my people." He winked and hopped away. Literally, he hopped away. Like a rabbit.

One of these days, Harry Potter is going to drive me nuts.

"TOM! Look what I made you!" Harry went running up to Voldemort, holding up a worse version of a Molly-Weasleyesque jumper.

"What in the bloody hell is that supposed to be?" Voldemort's slit eyes widened, literally, width ways.

"It's a jumper! What else could it possibly be?" Harry looked truly offended, with one hand on his heart, and the other letting the horrendous fluff of wool dangle off his pinky finger.

"An abomination of a cat, maybe. No, wait, you've skinned a green sheep and used that Muggle glue thing to stick all the pieces together." The dark wizard peered over the 'jumper', daring to touch it with his slimy, green, slender fingers.

"You don't even deserve it, Tom. You bad boy. Meanie." Harry pouted. No, seriously, he actually pouted, and all because Voldemort couldn't help but cringe his nose at the sight of that thing hanging off his hand.

"You wanna know what I think of that monstrous piece of art?" Voldemort whipped out his wand from his robes, pointed it at the jumper, muttered something under his breath and flicked the wand's point out the window.

As a result, the jumper flew off of Harry's hand and banged into the window. When it fell to the floor, it started sizzling. And within mere seconds, it had burn to a small crisp that disappeared with a slight pop!

"Awwww, lookit. Voldie's got a twiggle!" Harry said, a thick layer of sarcasm coating his voice.

"A what?"

The 17 year old teenager rolled his eyes and walked away, muttering things like 'ungrateful, spiteful little wizard' and 'no wonder everyone hates him'.


"What do you want? Can't you see I'm in the middle of yet another of my master evil-like plans?"


"What is it?"


Voldemort took a deep breath, counting to ten, hoping to God that that Yoga video he bought a week ago did what it said it did. "Yes, Harry m'boy, how may I help your inquisitive mind today?"

"When was the last time you took a bath?"

"Shut up." The Dark Lord flinged a scrunched up wad of paper in Harry's direction.

It missed.

"That was terrible." The Boy-Who-Lived remarked.

"I said shut up."


"WHAT?!" Voldemort slammed his parchments and quills down.

"I've just thought of a new name for you."

"Well as long as it doesn't involve variations of the nickname 'Voldie', I'm okay with it."

"Well good, 'cause I think it could catch on. The-Man-Who-Let-The-Boy-Live, what do you think? Too long?"

"What?! What kind of a name is that?"

"Fine, fine. The-'Darkest-Wizard-of-All-Time'-Who-Let-The-Boy-Live. Better?"

"Do you do this to me on purpose?"

"Of course not. I actually think it fits you rather well."

"Well you're stupid."

"Says The-'Darkest-Wizard-of-All-Time'-Who-Couldn't-Kill-The-Little-Ittle-Witty-Baby."

"Seriously, Potter. Shut up."



"So I'm not allowed to call you that?"

Knock, knock, knock.

"Who is it?"


"Potter, stop it. I've said it before," Voldemort closed his eyes, sleepily, "eight times before, and I'll say it again; no Great Dark Wizard manages to conquer the world with two hours of sleep every night. Now stop knocking at four a.m. in the morning, and go to sleep!"

Silence again.

"Have you gone?"

"Of course I have!" Came a distant call from, what it seemed like, rather far away.

"Then how come you can still hear me? And how come I can still hear you?"


"That's better."

He put his pink eye mask back on and lay...what?

Pink eye mask...?


"May I make a point, Tom?"


"It's a compliment..." Harry trailed off, gazing upwards, kind of like an angel.

"To who?"


Voldemort cleared his throat and smoothed down his robes. "Very well then, point away."

"Well, I must say sir, you look particularly menacing today." Harry attempted to fight off a child-like grin. He failed.

"You didn't mention that sarcasm was involved." Voldemort narrowed his already snake/slit-like eyes.

"Oh, what sarcasm? I mean, the sleep-deprived eyes, the weak posture, the pink eye mask. It's a recipe for terror!"


"Yes, Tom?"

"I've got it!"

"Got what?"

"The plan!"

"What plan?"

"Oh don't be so daft!"




"The plan which I'm going to use to RULE THE WORLD!" The Dark Lord's hands clenched into claws, he looked up to the ceiling and let out one of his rare, 'evil' laughs.

"And what is this brilliant plan of yours?" Harry snapped his gum, chewing on it faster and faster with each passing second.

"Well, I guess it can't do any harm, you know, considering it's not like you're getting out or anything, or telling anyone for that matter."

Harry narrowed his eyes and snapped his gum again, that was a sore subject.

Voldemort leaned forward in his chair, inching closer to Harry who was still metres away.

"I'm going to infiltrate the Ministry."

Harry felt like saying something along the lines of: "Haven't you already done that? And failed?" But he held his tongue.

"What? No witty remark? Nothing at all?"

Harry just chewed, and then started blowing up huge bubbles, which somehow, when burst, didn't splatter all over his face.

"Well, anyway, moving on. So, after we infiltrate the Ministry, I'll first take over the Weasley family," Harry froze for a second, then resumed popping his gum, "then, I'll kill them all. The Weasleys I mean. After that, I'll plant a few Death Eaters where Arthur Weasley's position in the Ministry was, and then spread from there; taking over all the Muggle Departments, breaching into the security, and soon, the entire Ministry WILL BE MINE!" He did his evil laugh thing again.

Voldemort looked back down at Harry.

"So what do you think?" His cold, sneering voice returned to normal.

Harry's only response was a series of huge bubbles in quick succession, the last of which grew to double the size of Harry's head, and when it finally burst, it somehow found itself all over Voldemort's face.

The teenager stared at his face, still metres away. "Sorry, about that Tom. Enchanted gum, what're ya gonna do about it?" He shrugged, pulled out another piece of gum from his pocket and popped it into his mouth, he soon resuming his chewing.

"You...are...impossible. Do you know that, Potter?" He still had blue gum all over his face.

Harry didn't respond, he just chewed.

"Are you not going to tell me at all what you think of my plan? It's evil, isn't it? It's brilliant, is it not?"

"Tom, may I make a point?"

"Well, at least you're talking. Sure, go ahead, Harry."

"I've met chunks of cheese with more cunning plans than yours."



"Go back to your chewing, Potter."

There was silence for a while, the only real noise being the consistent sound of Harry's gum popping and somehow finding it's way across the room and onto Voldemort's bald head.

"You know what? I don't care what you think. I don't care about your cheese, I don't care about your bloody gum and I certainly don't care about the fact that you are possibly the most annoying wizard on this entire planet. And you wanna know why? Because this plan is fool-proof. It's perfect. Absolutely flawless. I know it's going to work."

"You're the boss, boss." Harry muttered under his breath.

"Oh shut up."


"You think it's perfect too, don't you?"

"Well, put it this way, Tom; it's your funeral."

"It wasn't perfect." Voldemort sobbed into Harry's shoulder. "It wasn't fool-proof, it wasn't flawless, it didn't work!"

Saying that someone could cry meant that that said person had feelings, and by extension; a heart. Since Lord Voldemort didn't posses this almost essential organ, he was immune to feelings, and therefore couldn't cry, but if he could, what he was doing at that very moment, wailing into Harry's shoulder and wiping away imaginary tears, that would be how he would cry.

It was almost painful. Harry patted his bald held, wincing every time a bit of that gooey substance on Voldemort's head caught in between his fingers.

"There, there. I tried to tell you. Start taking advice from cheese, then you can start rebuilding the respect people used to have for you, then you can think of getting people to be scared of you again."

"But I tried so hard!" He weeped, clinging onto Harry's waist, letting his robes fall all over the both of them. Harry looked uncomfortable if anything with the current situation, but when his eyes suddenly brightened, any onlooker would know that he's just figured out a way to annoy Voldemort even more than he already was.

"You know what I think you need?"

"What's that, Harry?" Voldemort sniffed and looked up at him with what would be teary eyes.

Harry whipped out his wand, gave it a flick and flowers suddenly appeared in his hand.

"Lilies." Harry grinned and passed them to Voldemort.

The Dark Lord glared up at Harry, and sat up, suddenly forgetting his foiled plans and his annoyance at having failed yet again.

"That isn't funny, Potter."

"Really? I think it is."

AN: And there it is, my second longest chapter. This isn't a one-shot, there will be four or five more chapters coming up, all around the same length. Each chapter basically covers around two months until February when the final twist comes up :) and the unfortunate end to the story :(
Anyway, con-crit is LOVED and APPRECIATED.
Hope you enjoyed that as much as I!